The Sanzo Journals: Heaven's Not Enough
by Acheronia
Summary: Taken from modern day Earth, a young woman is given a special quest by The Merciful Goddess. One that involves the famous Sanzo party. With a mysterious, mystical pendant, she is led into a world she doesn't understand, to face emotions she doesn't want.
1. Prologue

**A/N: This is some of my earliest work. It's not so hot but I'm kinda stuck right now in the editing department. So I thought I'd stick it up here and see what ya'll thought and if any one had suggestions. There are actually three stories in this series. This is the prologue and doesn't have the Sanzo party in it quite yet. Read, review and let me know how I can improve this. I'll probably put up the other two eventually... **

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**Prologue **

Life in the Heavens was a complete bore. After living on the Lower World for most of her life she'd thought that life here would be like living in Paradise which, if one wanted to be technical, was what the Heavens were. She sat sprawled in one the tallest of the monstrous cherry trees in one of the innumerable gardens surrounding the Palaces mildly contemplating her situation. Looking out over the garden she began to relax, easing the tension that had been building in her shoulders and neck over the last several hours. The Merciful Goddess wasn't going to be happy to hear about how her little human changeling had skipped tai chi lessons today, or how she'd insulted the etiquette teacher by correcting him when the stupid man had made the most idiotic comment, or how she had refused to follow the steps of an ancient ritual dance in honor of the "mighty" Jade Emperor because she found them utterly inane. He wasn't her emperor or even her god; she was from a separate world and a wholly different time. Why should she make her self look like a buffoon for him? Plus, there was an entire list of things she wasn't doing right or had refused to do, period, in this wretched place. She found these lessons tedious and irrelevant when held against her true purpose here.

She'd been training for what nearly amounted to three years in her own time but here was a little less than one. Training is a relative term when considering what exactly she'd been doing. From martial arts and mastery of the twin swords she'd been given to dance and history, it was like they were trying to strip her of her former life and personality and remold her into what they believed she should be. She leaned her head back against the smooth bark of the tree, closing her light brown eyes against the glare of the afternoon sun as it filtered through branches heavy with pale pink blooms. Even now she was forced to wear a skin tight shirt made of the softest, most supple leather that covered her from just below her jaw to her hips. It had no sleeves and she had to wear these glove-like arm sheathes that came up to the middle of her upper arm and met over the back of her hand and her palm in a silver ring around her middle finger. She wore breech like pants too but they were usually covered by a split silk skirt. And of course it was all in black, except for the skirt whose color varied daily, with a matching black cloak and thigh high boots with high heels! She still didn't understand why the boots had such insane heels but TMG had made her learn to walk, run, jump, land, flip, etc. in those things until she could do it as if she wasn't wearing them at all. Like right now. Well, she thought glancing down at her shapely bare feet as they dangled over either side of the enormous branch she straddled; it wasn't like she ever wore the blasted things anyway if she could get away with it. But soon she knew would have to; she could feel time quickly running through the hourglass of Life, hastening her toward her destiny. She shrugged at that thought, her hip length blonde braid sliding off her shoulder to lie awkwardly between her arm and the trunk of the tree.

It actually wasn't her destiny per se but she'd been selected to take the unfortunate young woman's place after a situation had cut short the girl's life. Although she had never learned the specifics she did know that it had been because of a man, her lover, not saving her in time to prevent a ransom/ sacrifice. She thought she'd gotten the better end of the deal as the chit's replacement. She had been trained in all the arts including actual arts like painting and sculpting as well as martial art and was soon to be sent to alternately guide and spy on the famed Sanzo party. It was the last part of her known assignment that quickened her heart beat. Sanzo, the leader of the traveling band of four men drew her like a moth to a flame. She'd been told that any kind of involvement with him was forbidden because he was a priest and on a holy mission. She chuckled to herself a second relishing the brief thought of breaking this last rule but with a rueful shake of her head she fished out a peach from her satchel, thinking that this was one rule that even she wasn't going to break if she could help it. One never messes with a man on a mission, her mama used to say. Let it never be said that her mother wasn't a wise woman or that she had raised a fool for a daughter. Biting into the peach, unmindful of the sticky sweet juices that ran down her chin, she turned her mind to the serious topic of her part in the middle of this grand production. She knew she wasn't completely human any more and that the inky black chakra on her forehead hid the remnants of her humanity by concealing her aura but at the same time blatantly stating that she wasn't a god either. She never had been nor will ever be a demon so that category had been out of the running from the very beginning. But the pendant she wore 'round her neck allowed her to change her own appearance and her immediate surroundings as well as to increase her already phenomenal battle prowess to the point that she was equal to and even superior to many of the other gods in Paradise, even a few of the war princes. Despite and probably because of her situation she was being sent down to the Lower World with little to no aid from the Heavens, not even from TMG her self. But she would do her duty if only to be closer to the real heroes of this little fairy tale, she thought wryly.

The setting sun suddenly brushed across her face setting her eyes to translucent amber and hair to a fiery gold. Squinting, she put up a hand to block the glare of the sun from her eyes, chewing contemplatively as she watched the sky, for a blank moment caught up in its flaming majesty. She sat and watched the sun sink slowly below the distant horizon wondering faintly if one day she'd know what it would be like to live her life free of the constraints that the follies and whims of both mortal and immortal alike used to redirect her. Twilight fell softly, that wonderful time between light and dark, and she gave up such idealistic wondering as futile. Tossing the peach pit into the shadows, she slipped from her perch to the waiting world below.

With eyes the color of fresh spring lilacs, the Merciful Goddess benevolently watched the progress of her protégé as the slender girl climbed with careless grace from the impossible height of the Jade Emperor's favorite cherry tree. Landing with scarcely a sound, her bare feet disappearing in the thick carpeting of grass, Amaya had the uncanny appearance of one of the fabled dryads of Greek myth.

The Goddess leaned against the railing of the balcony outside her suite of rooms, chin resting thoughtfully in her graceful palm. A frown formed in the flawless ivory skin between the Goddess' brows as an untoward thought popped into her mind. The child had been completely human when she'd arrived. She had been an exceptionally talented and lovely human but a mortal nonetheless. Now there was talk that she was changing without the aid of magical or spiritual enhancements, becoming something that no one would have thought possible without a being of power's generosity. Many believed that Amaya was being helped by an unknown deity, one that had gifted her with the unusual pendant that always hung from the delicately braided silver chain around her neck. She had just appeared with it one day and could not, or would, not tell anyone who asked where it had come from and how she had gotten it. Infuriated with the Amaya's supposed impertinence, one particular goddess had tried to forcefully remove it from her throat but at the moment of contact had found herself hurled more than a dozen feet away by an unknown force. Angry she had turned on the poor girl but discovered that Amaya was just as bewildered and frightened as the rest of them.

Afterward she'd been told that she would have to give it up to continue her training so she had handed it meekly over. But it had reappeared around her neck every morning after it was removed from her possession. Finally the Jade Emperor, who had a secret soft spot for the witty, rebellious girl, had decreed that it would be left in her keeping as it seemed intent on staying there despite the measures taken to keep it out of her reach. The Merciful Goddess still wasn't sure if Amaya knew who her benefactor was or not but what she was sure of was the fact that the child's abilities increased daily and soon would be superior to more than a few of the residents here in the Heavens.

The Goddess sighed and stepped reluctantly away from the railing to walk sedately along the balcony, eyes focused on nothing in particular. If the others weren't constantly being assured that Amaya was going to be sent to the Lower World in the near future, there might be an attempt on her life. And she couldn't take the chance that it would succeed; that would be an unacceptable situation.

Tossing an errant strand of blue-black hair out of her face the Goddess changed her course, turning to step through the door of her suite. Closing the extravagantly carved door softly she leaned against it, sighing tiredly. A goddess should never have to do this much work just to keep one little changeling alive and out of trouble. But still in the end it was worth all the effort and time she had put into it. Amaya would go down under the mistaken impression that her job was to collect information about the Sanzo party and to guide them silently from the shadows and give aid if they should need it, which is an entirely unlikely possibility considering what the Goddess knew of these men.

What the girl didn't know, thought the Goddess with a sly smile, was that she was bait, sent to snare Sanzo's interest and, if luck would have it, his heart. For centuries she had tried to convince her surly and anti-social nephew that a woman would be good for him, calm him down and help settle his nerves. He had acidly replied that all a woman would do would be to make him more bad-tempered and his nerves more fragile. It had ended there because he had gotten that icy look in his deep violet eyes that had warned his celestial aunt that further conversation on the topic would not be a healthy decision.

So she had dropped it, until now, that is. She had scoured the world and, once, she had found a girl she thought worthy only to find the chit was too stupid and foolish to stay alive in Sanzo's world. After that horrible failure she had turned her hand to scouring other worlds and other times. Finally she found the "perfect" one, Amaya, who now resided here at the Palaces. She had put an unbelievable amount of effort in making this one capable of functioning in her nephew's world.

The Merciful Goddess wandered further through her rooms, the soft whisper of fine silk sliding over the hard wood floor the only sound. She stepped out through an archway onto a stone path. The path surrounded a courtyard where she sat in her elaborate throne to watch the events of the Lower World unfold. She came to the throne and sat with exhausted elegance, her mind still lost in thought.

The girl had a chance to catch Sanzo's eye, with her talent and her mind, not to mention her attractive face and figure. For all Sanzo being a priest he was still a man and the impact of a pretty face and shapely body had just as much effect on him as it did on any other male though it was far more subtle. Then there was that small piece of information of complete irrelevance that the girl was the incarnation of half of Sanzo's soul. One must never underestimate the power of a soul's determination to recombine or the determination of a rebellious hellion to break as many rules, to cross as many lines, and eat as much forbidden fruit as she could. The Merciful Goddess chuckled delightedly to herself at the thought. Leaning back and relaxing in the plush cushions she turned her jaded and far too experienced eye to the Lower World.

He watched from the shadows as the petite girl walked serenely along the edge of the reflecting pool, a leather satchel hanging carelessly from one shoulder. The moonlight glinted off the unusual pendant that rested between her pert breasts, bouncing slightly with each step. Her pale hair shown with silvered brilliance and he felt an unfamiliar tenderness tighten in his chest at the picture she made. She wasn't wearing her deadly silver swords and had an air of unsullied innocence and grace. Amaya was an interesting woman, he thought suddenly to himself. Her petite stature and slenderness made her appear as a young girl in early adolescence, especially with her long golden hair always worn in a thick plait down her back. But her poise and carriage suggested someone much older and world weary. She exuded a sort of amused nonchalance, that is, until she lost her rather formidable temper. Some would say her tantrums would be adorable if she hadn't been trained to be so destructive. They spoke of her as if she were an errant pet gone amok.

But they were fools unable to see that one as physically unassuming as Amaya was the perfect weapon. Of course, her face revealed a great deal of her personality, from her stubborn chin with its tiny cleft to the high proud bones of her face and wide sensual mouth. True she was pleasing to the eye in face and form but what truly made her unusual were her eyes. They were like windows into her soul yet could be as cold and blank as an unhappy god's. Their color varied from a deep woodsy brown to translucent amber. Her eyes completed the illusion with their mixture of truth and fiction. A better combination would be a long time coming. He smiled with gentle cruelty. He grew fonder of the little changeling the more he looked upon her and the more he watched her grow into her talents.

The only thing about her that bothered him was not Amaya her self but her purpose here and on the Lower World. He had thrown his lot in with Homura's cause and knew that she was meant for the arms and company of Sanzo and his party who opposed War Prince Homura in the conflict for the Lower World. He now found himself having to choose between obsession, greed, and loyalty to a friend and ally. But as he watched her unbraid her hair with agile fingers he grew even more uncertain, the poisoned hook of obsession sinking steadily deeper. He stared, eyes unblinking, as she let the wind sift its caressing fingers through the delicate silk. A fine trembling suffused his limbs as her long fingers undid the clasps of her garments, slowly letting them fall in an untidy pile beside her abandoned satchel at her feet. But it was only when the moon shone on the opalescent purity of her damp skin as she swam out of sight that he knew he was truly doomed.

Amaya stood stiffly before the full length mirror as servants draped lengths of a variety of silks across her chest, turning toward the Merciful Goddess, who lounged lazily behind her charge on a pile of downy pillows, to approve. "Really, Amaya, it's only a little get together among friends, I don't see why you should be this upset over something so trivial," said the Goddess petulantly as the servants draped an amber gold satin over Amaya's shoulder. "Your parties are never small, Goddess, and you know it. Everyone will try to be there, if they can help it." The Goddess smiled smugly and shrugged, replying, "So I throw magnificent parties, I can't help that, but I would think that would be an asset not a hindrance for you, my dear." Amaya looked over her shoulder and opened her mouth to retort only to be interrupted by the Goddess' slyly inserted: "Don't you love that gold satin? I think it looks gorgeous on you. It really brings out your rich coloring. You'll turn heads tonight if you wear that." Amaya rolled her eyes praying for patience to any deity that she hadn't had the pleasure of consorting with in person, daily. Obviously she wasn't supposed to comment on her guardian's earlier statement. That might jeopardize the Goddess' ego and that would not be in Amaya's own self-interest. So she continued to stare at herself in the mirror, resigning herself to the competent hands of the Goddess and her servants. They bustled about, bringing in jewelry, girdles, shoes and other accessories for the Goddess' approval.

A weighty silence filled the luxurious chamber that had been given to Amaya when she had first arrived in the Heavens. Her gaze settled on the pendant that hung between her breasts. It was the color of rich red wine, warm and comforting, as if it was trying to soothe its mistress' unsettled nerves. It was always responding to her moods and sometimes it randomly reacted to her thoughts. She had just recently begun to learn how to master its many powers. She knew that if she exerted enough of her will on it, it would change becoming whatever she desired of it. It didn't matter what she asked even if her desire was something out of her imagination, the pendant would manipulate whatever to make it happen or shift to become the object. It really was quite amazing. And because she had only begun to learn the things it could do that the possibilities seemed limitless. Even now she saw that the color within the stone swirled, changing to the milky color of a moonstone.

"Amaya! Amaya! Amaya, what the hell are you doing standing there like an idiot? We have to get you dressed and soon! My guests will be here any minute! Amaya, stop staring at yourself in the mirror and WAKE UP!" Amaya jerked from her reverie as the sound of the Goddess' irritated voice abused her ears. She turned, naked save for a linen shift that was fine enough to be translucent, to face the Goddess who sat with her hands propped on her voluptuous hips, a look of indignation on her divinely beautiful face. Amaya flashed a sheepish smile at her guardian. "Sorry, Goddess, where were we?" She said sweetly. The deity huffed then stood and strolled over to give her charge a long look, turning her, this way and that, so she saw every angle in the mirror's perfect reflection. She made a small sound before calling for the amber silk. Once she held the length of material she maneuvered Amaya so that she faced away from the mirror then she belled out the shimmering cloth around the golden-haired girl so that it swirled, rich and thick, like a cloud of faery dust to settle magically in the folds intended by the crafty Goddess. Stepping back she surveyed her work critically, running an expert hand over the sleek lines of the gown, so that it lay flush against Amaya's trim body. When the girl tried to turn and glance in the mirror the Goddess tsk-ed teasingly and led her by the hand to a stool where she had her sit. Calling once again for her servants she had a tray of hair ornaments, combs, and strands of gems brought to her and held by an attending maid. Returning her attention to her charge she addressed the present state of Amaya straight blonde hair. She lifted the heavy mass then let the fine strands sift through her fingers, eyes on the vanity mirror, gauging. Having made up her mind she went to work, alternately piling up and pulling down hair, winding gems and ribbons through then discarding them. This process seemed to last forever. Soon Amaya began to wonder if the Goddess was ever going to finish but as soon as the thought crossed her mind, the satisfied deity stepped back with a sound of triumph.

Amaya sighed, relieved and asked, "Can I look at everything now?" "Certainly not!" gasped her guardian in mock horror, "A woman should never look at herself fully until her toilette is completely finished and you still have jewels to put on and cosmetics to apply, silly girl. And, of course, by you I mean me." Wrinkling her nose in annoyance, Amaya huffed restlessly as the Goddess called for her collection of face and eye powders. She swiveled the stool so that she could see Amaya's face in the full brunt of the light. The Goddess was pleased she really didn't have much work to improve her pupil's natural beauty.

When she finished she stepped back, nodded decisively then called for jewels. Four maids appeared each carrying two coffers between them. Lifting the lid of the first one the Goddess withdrew a pair of earrings. After placing them in the holes in Amaya's lobes she removed an elaborate ear cuff and settled it over the shell of Amaya's right ear. Then she turned to the second chest and drew out arm cuffs which she promptly clasped around the girl's slim upper arms. But when she moved to choose a necklace she paused then turned back toward Amaya and wonderingly asked, "Do I need to choose a necklace or can you take care of that?" Amaya grinned and cheekily replied "I can definitely take care of that."

Amaya closed her eyes and concentrated as the Goddess looked on curiously. Amaya ran her mind over the form and intricacies of the necklace she wanted and after what seemed forever she opened her eyes. Grinning she turned to her guardian for her approval. The Goddess made a thoughtful face. " Not bad, not bad at all, in fact I think that has to one of the most amazing things I've ever seen" Amaya burst out laughing at the absurdity of that but thanked her friend anyway. The Goddess chuckled as she walked toward the full length mirror and beckoned Amaya over with a gesture. Suddenly anxious the usually fearless Amaya stood slowly and approached the Goddess and the mirror. Finally she stood in front of the silver glass and was shocked to see an exquisite stranger staring back at her with an awe-struck expression on her lovely face.

This strange woman wore a satin gown the fiery gold of sunset that clung to her like a second skin. It molded her high breasts so that they swelled upward. The dress swept down from her narrow waist to flare out from her hips so that the skirt flowed around her legs. Her arms and back were left bare but what was truly stunning was the collar that held the dress up. It was made of gold and copper, and it was thick and wide, covering from the base to the middle of her throat. Copper designs flowed over the band with flashing bits of topaz, citrine, and amber. At the center was the largest gem, a black opal that flashed fiery reds, oranges and gold. The dress attached to collar at a point, V-ed down in a split to reveal a slice of pert creamy breast.

It was amazing how this transformation was made complete by up swept, loose curls interwoven with strands of topaz and black opal. Amaya was dumbfounded by her appearance. So much so she didn't notice the Goddess' smug expression until she glanced behind her in the looking glass. She turned around, fists propped in her hips.

"Don't you dare look at me like that!" Amaya teasingly admonished the smirking divinity. "Can I at least say 'I told you so'?" playfully begged the Goddess as she stepped toward her charge with arms outstretched. "You are absolutely gorgeous! If I didn't know any better I'd say you were one of us." Amaya laughed out loud and threw her arms exuberantly around her guardian who returned her embrace for a moment before stepping back and cupping her lovely changeling's chin in her palm. "You've done me proud, pretty mortal. You'll knock him on his crabby ass. He won't know what hit him, the bastard." With a confused smile Amaya replied, "Thanks…I think." Chuckling, the Goddess gave her cheek one last pat before swishing away in her suddenly scarlet gown and out the door to begin greeting her steadily arriving guests.

As Amaya stood in the silent room she felt her delight begin to fade as a deep dread settled in the pit of her stomach. She wasn't sure she believed what her guardian had said and the mention of him had made her wary of what was to come. She was beginning to doubt the truth of her entire purpose and the sincerity of her guardian. Amaya steeled herself against her doubts, instinctively knowing that to doubt was to invite failure. If there was one thing in her life she wanted to succeed it was this, but not for what would've been acceptable reasons. No, the only reason she prayed for success in this endeavor was because it meant she, at the least, got to see him. The pounding ever-present need to see him, to know him, lived secretly inside her. She would do whatever they said; say whatever they wanted to hear to be with him, even if it meant never being close enough to touch. That was why she would go to the party that raged below her sandaled feet. It was why she would laugh, flirt and dance. He was the treasure at the center of the labyrinth. Amaya stared at her silver twin a moment before pasting a softly flirtatious smile and a witty quirk to her expression. Then with her armor firmly attached, she turned on her heel and strode from the room with purposeful strides, secure in her desires and the looming silhouette of her prize.

Amaya was beginning to regret ever even considering this fiasco, let alone agreeing to come to it at all. The noise was phenomenal, the company horrendously boring and her feet felt completely mutilated from being stepped on so many times by careless passers-by. She had been propositioned, groped and insulted by an endless line of deities, monarchs, and bureaucrats, male and female alike. In response she had had to be polite and witty in declining or ignoring their lewd offers and egotistical demands. Finally she had escaped to the relative privacy of the back garden. She picked up the soiled hem of her gown and slipped into the sheltering darkness, unaware of the fevered eyes that marked her movements. So caught up in her frustration she made a fatal mistake in not scanning her surroundings for lurkers or even hidden trysts. She strolled leisurely down the moonlit paths, a sense of equilibrium coming back to her. She really didn't have a destination in mind when she started along this way but when she ended up at the tiny cove that sheltered a miniature bay, complete with ferns, fish, and an abundance of night-blooming flowers, she was surprised to find herself drawn into the little world. Sitting on a bench that was created as part of a living tree, she relaxed in the misty comfort of solitude, still blissfully unaware.

She must have slept because she woke with a start, unsure of what had woken her. She sat up and looked about her, seeing nothing changed, yet wary. Her pendant, still a heavy collar, clung to her throat and pulsed softly, slightly over warm. She raised a hand and tested the stone, adrenaline starting to pump through her, finding the stone hot and angry. It sensed a danger she could not see or sense with her outer senses. She sat up straighter poised on the edge of the bench searching the shadows with a jaundiced eye, her hands itching for her swords. Suddenly a small movement caught her eye and she froze.  
"There's no point in hiding in the shadows anymore. I know where you are." She paused for a moment, waiting for movement. There was no reaction so she continued.

"What kind of man are you? Surely you're a coward to skulk in the shadows and not face me in the open." Her voice was strong and defiant, an angry tone making it more intimidating. Still no response and she was ready to issue another challenge when from the darkness flowed a tall, androgynous form. It was a moving shadow floating toward her, a midnight drenched wraith. It halted not two ft. from her, head bowed to hide its face from the illuminating glow of the moon. She stood head held high, chin out, feet braced apart, and ready for whatever this creature was going to throw at her. She desperately wished she had her swords because her ability to wield the necklace was unpredictable at best. Not two seconds after the thought crossed her mind that she felt the weight of the twin silver swords resting in the palms of her hands. Startled she raised them so that they crossed in front of her. Just as startling as their appearance was the dark being's reaction to them. It seemed to stumble back in a very human gesture of surprised fear. A clever smile twitched her lips as she took an experimental step forward and was stopped by an elegant hand raised in surrender.

"Amaya, love, there's no need for those nasty things. I was just playing a little practical joke," drawled the thing in a smoothly cultured, and very familiar, voice. It lifted its head, balanced on a slender swanlike neck and, cocking a finely arched brow, smiled charmingly at her.

"Keiko, you ass," gasped Amaya, relieved laughter tumbling out, "what the hell were you thinking? I could've killed you!" She plopped back onto the bench as Keiko gracefully approached and, tossing his hip length chestnut hair out of the way, leaned against the trunk beside her so he could look down into her upturned face. He smiled slyly in the dark, a malevolent twinkle in his turquoise eyes. "I just wanted to see if you were half as good as they say you are, love. You know blind belief isn't my style." He lazily purred eyes heavy-lidded as he ran a caressing look over her unique features. He watched the flit of emotions in her eyes how the colors swirled darkly in the muted light. Ever since the night he had watched her swim in the reflection pools he had wanted to do this; To get her alone, away from the attention and interference of the others, especially the newly turned mother hen, the Merciful Goddess. He had played the cynical, jaded libertine who was an outcast and considered completely harmless, his only interest in his next game of cards and/or his newest female conquest. Now she was comfortable with him and had allowed him to gain the privilege that supposed security gave her.

She was laughing up at him, the wind teasing loose strands of gossamer hair. Without realizing what he was doing he reached out a hand and gently captured a piece, wrapping and unwrapping it around his finger. He found him self battling his desire for her body, momentarily forgetting his lust for her power.

"…Keiko have you been listening to a word I've said?" came the wry query.

"Of course, dear, but I find that there are so many better things to do in a moonlit garden than talk, don't you agree?" He watched her reaction from under his eyelashes, gauging his progress.

"I'm not as naïve as you seem to think I am, Keiko. Plus even if I was so inclined you know damned well that I couldn't." Her voice had hardened slightly and her eyes had shuttered. He realized his blunder immediately yet for the life of him he didn't know why he felt compelled to continue on this foolish topic.

"A little kiss here and little touch there won't damage your precious cause, Amaya…plus you'll need to be experienced enough to aid you darling priest." He murmured snidely, sliding down to trap her on the bench as she started to rise.

"Let me up, Keiko, now." Her voice was sharp enough to cut glass and harder than the finest diamond. She was stiff and unyielding in his arms but the feel of her softness, the suppleness of her young body pressed against his, sent his desire to blazing hotter, until it was out of control. He murmured her name as he began to lower his mouth to her's only to feel a smack of incredible power an inch from his destination. Rearing back he stared at her a moment uncomprehending.

"Let. Me. Go." She ground out softly, eyes flashing furiously. But now his desire wasn't just for her body but her power. He could no more turn from her than he could from death. He shifted closer but she took the small opening to send a well placed elbow to his diaphragm. Grunting in pain and surprise, his hold loosened enough that she was able to tear free. But she turned back to give him a dressing-down never considering he would continue his pursuit. He moved almost too fast for her to see. Grabbing her around the waist he threw her up against the tree slamming his own body into hers with painful force. She struggled for breath only to find his mouth there preventing her from taking it. She gagged as he thrust his tongue deep into her mouth, plunging it rhythmically. She fought feebly, fear and fury pumping through her veins. Suddenly he reared back and she saw his eyes. Dilated to the point where there was no visible iris, an evil light filled the empty black holes of his pupils. As he tried to lower his mouth to hers again she turned her head. He slid his lips and tongue down her throat then abruptly lifted her so that her feet dangled off the ground. She tried to kick them up but found his thigh wedged between them preventing an upward motion. He left a damp trail over the satin covering her chest until he came to her nipple. She struggled violently, bucking and tossing her body from side to side but nothing happened. His harsh breathing filled her mind clouding out rational thought. The only thing that remained was the furious hate and rampant fear of a trapped animal. But something else was building inside her, something unimaginably strong; something so powerful that it made the gods powers seem like parlor tricks. It grew fueled by her rage and her helplessness until it filled her.

His hand had begun the ascent up her thigh, running his nails over her tender skin, leaving bloody strips in their wake. He felt her trembling and gloried in it. Her power had grown and he drank it up becoming increasingly intoxicated by the heady brew. But he was not aware of that other power, a power he did not feel, a power he could not understand or return. It was too late by the time he realized his mistake.

She could not breathe, couldn't get the breath to scream to fight. But still she felt herself filling up with something even as the edges of her vision grayed. And as her mind began to shut down that amazing unknown energy exploded outward in a glorious burst of light.

Keiko was thrown back into the trunk of a large tree where he lay dazed for a moment. Amaya crumpled to her knees, gasping for breath, eyes dazzled. She could feel the energy sizzling around her body waiting excitedly within reach of hand or mind. She sat back on her heels slowly, shaking her head to clear any remaining cobwebs. She had forgotten about her assailant until she heard the rustling of his movements a few feet away. At the sound an uncontrollable fury suffused her and before she even realized what she was doing she had jacked Keiko's much larger, limp body up against the tree that had cushioned his fall. Snarling animalistic-ly she tossed him with all her strength as far across the glade as she could. The satisfying crack of his body against the trunk of a tree twenty feet off was like music to her ears. He took longer this time but he began to rise unsteadily. Fury filled her again at his insolence, and again she was there in the blink of an eye. Deciding that a tree was too soft she hurled against the solid rock of the cove walls. The sound of bones cracking told her of impact but this time she didn't wait for him to rise before she was upon him. She lifted him slowly holding him high so she could stare into his glazed, pain filled eyes.

"This will teach you to force a woman, Keiko. I hope you learn because there will be no second chance if it happens again be it to me or to any other woman." She whispered in voice that sounded like a thousand voices.

"AMAYA!!!" came a fear stricken cry from the direction of the walkways. Still holding Keiko above her she turned her head and saw a dozen or more celestial faces staring with horror at the scene before them.

"Amaya, what did you do to Keiko? What the hell happened?" asked the Merciful Goddess in a terrified voice as she ran to her charge's side. It was as she stood there that she finally got a good look at Amaya's eyes. A pure and unsullied gold, like the sun at dusk, they glowed with an intense fire, full of life and a terrible, dangerous power. The largest stone in the gold collar glowed the same pure golden color as her eyes. The Goddess finally realized what exactly teaching this girl the things she had truly meant. She had been proud and selfish and now she was ashamed for she would cause this young woman's death.

"Amaya put Keiko down, please," the Goddess spoke softly. She reached out a hand and placed it over her charge's on Keiko's throat

"I'm not stupid or insane, Goddess," replied the gold eyed warrior in a dry voice that still retained the echo of a thousand others. Amaya dropped Keiko like a sack of potatoes and stepped away turning her back on the crowd to face the still serenity of the pool. The other deities rushed to Keiko's aid and bore him away into the night their voices raised in outrage and concern.

The Goddess watched her pupil for a long moment, weighed down by sadness and regret. Finally she silently walked to Amaya's side.

"It's time to go, my child," said the Goddess with a catch in her voice. She offered Amaya her hand but felt a stab of sudden inexplicable pain as the daughter of her heart walked past her proffered hand to fade into the night leaving the moon drenched glade as if she had never been.

The imperial court was lavish and filled to its capacity with richly garbed deities. A steady hum filled the room as people murmured bits and pieces of the story back and forth. Everyone wanted to see the changeling mortal that had gone rabid and turned on an immortal, nearly killing him before her guardian had managed to pull her off. There were dueling opinions on what really happened that night. A large number of the female population were inclined to believe that the mortal woman had serious provocation to react in the manner she had due to the "victim's" previous attempts upon others of her sex. Although they felt sympathetic toward her the fact that a mortal hand nearly snuffed out an immortal life was innately terrifying to anyone whose entire existence had revolved around the improbability of death, and was met with incredible censor and mindless hysterics from all sides. The male residents of the Heavens were in an uproar. Even though Keiko had maintained a steady existence on the outskirts of the proper circles he had not been well liked and only tolerated because of his uncanny ability to persuade anyone to his way of thinking with little effort and time. Now all were present to witness what they hoped would prove an entertainingly historic event.

The first sign the crowd had that the proceedings were about to start was the rhythmic rattle of chains coming steadily closer to the court. Silence fell like a blanket over them as they turned in unison to see the mortal anomaly striding, head held high through the doors, wreathed in gleaming manacles on her wrists, ankles and around her elegant neck. The pendant still hung like heavy drop of crimson blood between her breasts. She wore her everyday clothes, the warrior's black body suit, a split silk skirt in a red so dark as to seem black and her high boots. Even with the harsh weight of her restraints she moved with an easy, fluid grace. The only difference was that her mane of fair hair tumbled like a straight shower of purest golden light to below her hips. No one could take their eyes from her, awed by her strange beauty and the defiant tilt of her chin as she walked to what would surely be her doom.

The Jade Emperor leaned regally back in his ornate throne. He, too, watched the approach of his prisoner but he was not swamped with feelings of awe at her appearance or amazement at her insolence. His black eyes traced the bones of her face and the smooth lines of her figure with regret. Regret and a nostalgic sorrow burned like acid in the pit of his belly. But his face appeared as emotionless as granite, never revealing the rolling sickness within.

Amaya approached the dais where the Emperor sat in state upon his throne. Her jailers stopped at the base of the platform and the morbid music of jingling chains fell silent.

"Kneel before the Jade Emperor, murdering mortal!" Snarled the crater faced man on her left. When she refused to comply with his cruel treatment he moved as if to strike her.

"Lay one hand on that woman and you will regret it for the rest of your miserable life, however long I decide it shall be," drawled the Emperor in a softly dangerous voice. The man backed away, fear and hatred barely concealed in his expression and left his charge still standing disrespectfully proud before the ruler of the Heavens.

"Your Majesty, may I speak?" Amaya spoke without hesitation in a strong, steady voice. Her eyes were not lowered in deference to his superiority but gazing intently into his own. His respect for the young woman before him increased ten fold.

"You may, Amaya," replied the Jade Emperor his voice continuing to remain neutral despite his personal feelings.

"Your Majesty, I am not defending my actions to you or to this court; especially not to this court. It is for you to decide what truly happened that night in the gardens. I can not influence your decision. It might have been made the moment you heard of the incident or you might still be deliberating. It doesn't matter one way or the other. Nothing I can say, or do, will make much of a difference at this point. I am a mortal who deigned to defend my right to life against an immortal. In that struggle I managed to inflict more serious harm on him than he had on me. I beat him, not with my hands, but with my fury, my rage. I am not ashamed of my actions nor do I, in any way, regret them. If I could I wouldn't have stopped but continued until he breathed his last foul breath. No man will ever touch me like that, without my permission, and live to do it again. This I vow on my immortal soul. I have power and strength all my own, I don't need the fake generosity of the Immortals. You may judge my actions, my reactions, and my character but only I have the right to judge my heart. The decision you make today, here in this room, will not change who I am nor do I care what you think. This decision has no impact on my life, even if you choose to take it from me. I will persist through time eternal. My soul will endure and not even you Jade Emperor of the Heavens can make it any different."

The court room was so quiet that if a pin dropped two hundred miles away it would have sounded like a sonic boom to the occupants. Amaya stood straight and tall, legs braced, hands at her side. She was magnificent, thought the Emperor. If only she had been born a thousand years or so sooner and he would've considered taking her to wife. But events had occurred now that made any possibility of that nonexistent. He rested his chin thoughtfully on his hand mulling over her words before he finally spoke.

"It is as you say, my dear. I may be an emperor but it is not my place to pass judgment on one whose intentions were pure and justified. Ordinarily I would release you with only the minimum penalty and let you return to your life without contest. But the fact remains that you are, despite your unusual gifts, a mortal. Not only a mortal, a mortal who had threatened the existence of one of the immortals without regret. This can not go unpunished, child. Although I personally agree and endorse your actions I must think in terms of what is best for my people. I'm sorry, but I must pass my judgment." He stood then with an aching slowness to face the crowd, his eyes sad and weary at what he must do.

"Amaya, foster daughter of the Merciful Goddess, I hereby banish you from the Heavens under penalty of death at your return. You have three days to make the transition to the Lower World before a warrant is sent out for your immediate arrest and subsequent execution."

His voice rang through the great hall with a stunning finality. Amaya felt the echo of it pound in her skull. For all her proud defiance she trembled inside. Her knees felt wobbly and she had to struggle to control her breathing. She almost didn't answer the Emperor when he asked if she understood.

Jerking her eyes to his she inclined her head in acknowledgement. She wondered blankly if he had noticed her preoccupation.

"Very well, then, you are dismissed, Amaya, foster daughter of the Merciful Goddess," returned the Jade Emperor, his regret now visible in his expression. He nodded at her jailers but as they tried to urge her toward the doors she suddenly refused to move, half turned away from the royal dais. "My Lord, when first we met do you remember what I said to you?" she queried quizzically. The Jade Emperor raised regally arched brows in surprise. "Yes, Amaya, I do. You said that you would kneel to no one, woman or man, mortal or immortal, under your own power. Why do you ask, child?" replied the supreme ruler of the Heavens in a gently inquiring tone. He watched her expression. She had revealed nothing until this moment. Now a frown had formed between her brows and her sensual mouth had tightened into a line bracketed by white creases of stress. She looked far more world weary that one of her years had a right to. Finally after a minute she raised her earnest dark eyes to his, holding his gaze for a long breath before answering. "I ask because before I forgot to mention one tiny detail," she said. "I forgot to say that if I was ever to kneel before a man," she sank to one knee, bowing her noble head, "He would have to earn it first, as you have."

The Emperor stared for a moment as a collective gasp rippled through their audience. Amaya knelt as gracefully as a captive warrior queen with her empty scabbards, wildly tumbling river of hair, and gleaming metallic bonds. He knew in this moment he would never forget this astonishing woman and what she had taught him. A murmur arose as the Emperor began to descend the stairs from the dais. She did not even raise her chin until he bent and tilted her face up to his. "Amaya," he said quietly, "I may be the Jade Emperor but I would never ask an equal to lie prostrate before me. I never wish to see you kneel before another again, man or woman. Please stand, Amaya, Queen of the Heavenly Winds." He proffered his hand palm up and, hesitatingly, she took it. Placing his other hand over her's they rose in unison. And as she walked from the Imperial great hall draped in chains and the approval of the Heavens, a thousand eyes followed her progress and a thousand hearts envied and adored the exiled Amaya, foster daughter of the Merciful Goddess, convicted felon, and newly crowned Queen of the Heavenly Winds.

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	2. A Familiar Stranger

**Disclaimer: I do not own Saiyuki in a way, shape or form. **

**To cathy-the reader or Neko-ch...: Thanks for reviewing, it's much appreciated. I wish all my readers were as nice as you! **

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**A Familiar Stranger**

The sun was just disappearing behind the tree line when the four men stepped off of the wooded road and onto the single main street of the tiny village. The robed blonde looked increasingly aggravated at the antics of his compatriots as he glared out at the village from under his shaggy bangs. Behind him the three others engaged in a merry mock battle with the demon half-breed against the golden-eyed boy while the black haired more congenial man, with the white dragon draped over his shoulders, refereed laughingly between the two verbal combatants. The blonde abruptly turned on his companions. Snarling angrily, he waved a small silver gun at them so that it caught the last glimmer of sunlight. It flashed brilliantly enough that anyone who watched had to look away with dazzled eyes. His voice was an authoritative hum, deep yet resonant. The trio froze immediately at his tone and after a moment of begging reassurance moved off hurriedly yet no less jovially down the nearly empty street in the general direction of the only inn in town.

Not a one of them sensed the dark eyes that watched from the rooftop shadows, not even the irritable yet vigilant blonde. The hidden onlooker appeared from the depths of the shadows, following the group's progress down the road with hungry eyes. Sighing wearily, the watcher leaned back against stone still warm from a sun that had just recently sunk below the distant horizon. A fierce inner yearning welled up like blood from a fresh wound but was quickly quashed with an almost ruthless severity by the dark-clothed specter. It would not do to let such unwarranted and unruly emotions reveal themselves before their due time. She, for the secret stalker was, indeed, a woman, turned away as her subjects disappeared from her view. But the overwhelming desire to reveal her self to them, _him_ in particular, was nearly uncontrollable. As she strode across the cooling rooftop her agile mind wandered back to the beginning of this little charade. She was a mortal exile of Heaven, one of the Fallen. But she hadn't always been. Once she had been the darling of an important goddess who had taken her in and trained her, preparing her to eventually carry out this special duty which she had bequeathed to her foster daughter. A gift from that goddess, a twin pair of silver swords, rode the middle of her back in their elaborate sheathes, clanging quietly as she leapt from rooftop to rooftop, the growing darkness not hindering but helping hide her from curious eyes. As had been the original plan she tailed the Sanzo party, remaining an unknown presence that quietly watched and observed, using everything she had been taught and few tricks of her own to gain the information she sought. But the plan had changed. She smiled bitterly at that thought but having come to the end of the line of rooftops she had to pull herself from her thoughts and concentrate on her next move. With a creak of her leather suit and a swoosh of her nondescript dark cloak, she swung from the eaves to land with practiced ease on the balls of her feet forty feet below on the hard-packed dirt street. Now came the most challenging chapter of this major production. Up until now she'd tracked the party at a distance, impersonally observing how they interacted with one another and other people, enemy or not, they happened to run across on their journey westward. Now she'd decided the time had come to get to know them up close and personal. Pulling up the obscuring hood of the cloak she blended into the deep shadows as she slipped off through the darkness, heading straight for the merry warmth and bright lights of the village inn, leaving the whisper of a chuckle to linger in her wake.

The common room of the inn was a loud and boisterous dwelling. Many of the village men gathered there at the end of a hard day's labor to joke and laugh away daily troubles before going home to their families. But even for this merry place, the deafening squabbles between two of the newest guests were noticeable over the general din. They sat off to one side; the four of them sprawled around a table in a corner. The hyper golden-eyed boy they called Goku was alternately exclaiming over the amazing quality of the food and battling the loud and angrily protesting half-breed, Gojyo, for his share. Through out their journey Gojyo had concentrated on annoying Goku as much as he could. Their tiffs always seemed to be the loudest when food was involved which may have been because Goku was known for his perpetual hunger and as a result his eating far more than his share. The blonde, Sanzo, and the dragon owner, Hakkai, ate quietly, watching the familiar show. Occasionally Hakkai would softly toss witty interjections into the banter between Gojyo and Goku which usually fueled the fire rather than dousing it. Sanzo sat sullenly sipping tea. It was obvious to any idle observer that he was growing steadily annoyed at the two across from him. But just as he was about to pistol whip them something caught his eye. A figure, darkly hooded and wrapped snuggly in a thick cloak, lounged in the farthest darkest corner of the inn. The glint of eyes from beneath the hood told him that they were the center of this creature's attention. He reached out with his senses, searching for the being's aura but was stunned when he felt nothing at all. It was almost as if there was nothing but air sitting in that corner. Then suddenly he caught a scent but just as quickly he lost it, left with only a faint impression of musk and spice. He looked around him covertly noting the way folks acted toward that particular part of the room. They walked right past as if no one were there and if the thing wanted anything it just appropriated it from a maid who then acted bewildered to suddenly find her hand empty where it had been full before. She would search around for a moment before giving up and getting another of whatever was taken. No matter the effluence of its movements the hood neither slid nor did the cloak part to reveal a telltale feature. He observed the wraith for what seemed like a short period of time but when he did eventually turn most of his attention back to the actions of his cohorts and their many antics he discovered much more time had passed than he thought. None of them had noticed the presence of the corner specter. In fact they behaved the same as the other occupants of the room. He leaned back in his chair, stretching his long legs out beneath table. He pulled a cigarette from his pack and fiddled with it as he thought, never mind the fact that a half lit one still dangled from his lips. He tried to remember the scent but got nothing except the vague feeling that it was somehow familiar. Frowning he lifted the cigarette to his mouth but when he opened his lips the other nearly burnt one tumbled into his cold cup of tea.

By now the others had noticed his preoccupation especially after that stunt. He grumbled as he shoved the cup away and lifted his lighter and lit the new cigarette, refusing to make any kind of eye contact with the others. They stared at him a moment before bursting into side-splitting laughter. Gojyo managed to stop laughing long enough to ask,

"What the hell is the matter with you, Sanzo? Never thought I'd see the day when the great Genjo Sanzo made him self look like a complete idiot in front of an entire inn house!"

He had to stop talking as another fit of laughter doubled him over. The others had tears streaming down their cheeks and couldn't stop long enough to breathe let alone talk. Sanzo sat puffing angrily until Goku was finally able to speak up.

"Geez, Sanzo, what'd you do that for? Didn't you like the one you already had?"

Sanzo sat straighter then slammed both his hands on the table causing it to tremble ominously. He shoved away and stood abruptly, clenching his teeth furiously around the end of his cigarette.

"I'm going out," snarled out Sanzo from around his cigarette.

There were protests as he stalked away, feeling the astonished and mirth-filled eyes of his friends boring into his retreating back. He angrily dodged jovially shouting newcomers who barreled heedlessly through the door. It was only when he'd stepped out onto the deserted street that he was able to breathe easier. He took a deep drag on his cigarette and the amber light of the cherry illuminated his angular features. He leaned his head back and stared at the stars through the rising cloud of slowly exhaled smoke. His mind wandered back to the cloaked creature hidden in the corner. It had been watching the group, yes, but he had a hunch that it had been_him _who had held most of its attention. Therefore now that he had left the inn so would the shadow-draped wraith. A thin crooked smile tilted his lips upward. He had an itch for a fight anyway, he thought as he leisurely wandered off, cigarette still clamped between his teeth, the cherry like a miniature torch floating away into the night.

Sanzo chain smoked his way along the deserted streets of the village, all available senses as tuned as they could be for his midnight stalker. He was still puzzled over the strange scent he'd gotten. It had been something exotic but vaguely familiar and yet he could not place it. A soft breeze ruffled his muted golden hair and brought the unmistakable scent of danger his way. He tensed and tilted his head listening carefully. Continuing to stroll casually through empty the street he gave no outward sign that he sensed anything strange. His hands rested still and ready within the concealing sleeves of his robes, his right hand wrapped securely around the butt of the stout silver gun that was his only weapon against the night. He reached a run down section of the village near the edge of the forest and he stopped abruptly staring at the odd invasion of wood into cement, urban into wilderness. But for all his coolness he was ready as the beginnings of a large pack of relatively young feral demons materialized out of the shadowy alcoves, some from the forest shadows others from the abandoned homes and warehouses, to converge on him en mass, sniggering evilly at his misperceived foolishness, a lone apparently unarmed man, who for all his being a legend was just a man. This obvious advantage gave the demons an arrogant misplaced courage as they swaggered through the darkness, eyes wild and gleaming in the muted light of moon and stars. Sanzo waited, with the patience of the priest he was, for them to make their move, for once not getting irritated right off the bat and shooting everything in sight with equal ferocity. But when the demons still refused to face him he became impatient and his natural inclinations overtook his momentary monk-like demeanor.

So snarling irritably, he methodically started to search them out of the darkness and dispatch them with the little silver banishing gun. In his disgusted aggravation he didn't seem to notice that the numbers were greatly to his disadvantage and that the demons, fueled by hate and bloodlust, were steadily closing in.

But then discordant shrieks echoed from the depths of wood, the source of the pack. Those closest to the tree line pushed forward in sudden apprehension, crowding the other members. Sanzo didn't notice the change until the sound of scraping metal against flesh and flashes of reflected light skidded across the screeching, scrambling rabble. At first he thought it was Gojyo but something wasn't right. Where were Hakkai and Goku? Then, through a break in the crush of bodies, he saw a fluid shadow that wielded twin slivers of shifting light. Suddenly it dawned on him that this was the cloaked specter from the inn. His preoccupation cost him a second too late in reacting to a demon's attack and for his punishment the dying demon left a long deep gauge across Sanzo's chest. Momentarily stunned, He stumbled back only to be faced with the rabid visage of another demon. Blocking the ragged pain in his chest and the warm flow of his own blood down his body, he renewed his battle, increasing his own ferocity to match theirs, his own hate and anger to counter theirs. But now, fueled by the scent of his blood, they lost whatever ability for rational thought they had ever possessed and began to rush him at incredible speeds, one right after the other. When one fell, another quickly took its place. For all his skill and vigor, Sanzo was slowly weakening, his hands were beginning to tremble and his head was light from loss of blood. He knew that soon they would overtake him. But in his weakened state he had forgotten about the shadow warrior that was quickly eliminating his enemies from the inky spaces between shimmering shafts of moonlight.

The screams of the dying ripped through the already heavy air as the creature from the inn's glittering swords undulated like liquid silver through the thrashing throng. Sanzo's vision was beginning to blur and the twin swords looked almost like extensions of the heavy lunar disc that jadedly watched the strange disjointed battle. The demons had thinned enough that he could rest between shots and it was during one of these brief respites that he caught a flashing glimpse of a moon-silvered braid whipping viciously around a boy-slender frame dressed in pitch-black clothes with the sweeping thunder cloud of a cloak echoing each movement. But these moments were small windows and soon with a finely executed riposte the slender specter's engulfing cloak belled out preventing Sanzo from seeing more. Foolishly he became so engrossed in trying to discover the identity of his fellow combatant that he tried to get a closer look. But with his judgment and awareness hindered by his extensive injuries he paid no heed to the tall, heavy-set black haired demon bearing down on him from behind until he suddenly felt the bite of its claws in his back as it fell upon him. He raised his gun in an automatic reaction only to be tossed like a rag doll several feet with a single brutal thrust that left him stunned, in pain and, without a weapon. His gun had skittered away into the darkness and out of his immediate reach when he'd landed, making retrieval and therefore defense nigh impossible. If he tried to fight the demon with his own body, especially in its weakened state, Chance would be against him.

He prepared futilely to defend himself as he struggled to his knees but as he was getting ready to haul himself to his unsteady feet he was suddenly surrounded by the rippling shadow of a mysterious defender. Swords held at ready the boy stepped into the demon's oncoming attack, holding his weapons crossed calmly over his chest, head bowed as if in surrender. Sanzo's strength gave out and he lay at the phantom's feet, sprawled haphazardly. His eyes blankly followed the sweep of the midnight mantle and just before the demon overtook the creature he thought he saw something through a tear in the fabric of reality. In this moment Time seemed to slow, the feral, rabid visage of his attacker frozen and his own body seemed unwilling and unable to follow his commands. But the specter was wrapped in a brief cyclone of multicolored winds that caressed and teased their prisoner, lifting and molding its clothing against its body. The power of the winds appeared to whip through reality, causing a ripple in time for the space of a blink. Sanzo closed his eyes from only a fleeting second only to open them to an intact reality, minus multicolored wind and frozen faces. An unusual tightness filled his chest as the demon attacked the delicate creature, Sanzo believed it would be the end of the creature, this realization met with conflicting emotions, but astonishingly the brusque sound of metal meeting flesh followed by the agonized scream that ripped through the air revealed who the winner of that little skirmish was. The boy-creature glided indifferently away from him, causing the moonlight to spill sharply over Sanzo's face and eyes, blinding him for a moment but he looked up and into the light anyway.

The picture framed by the heavy luminescence of the moon staggered him. His eyes connected with eyes the color of ebon with pieces of crystal sprinkled through out, reflecting the light like tiny stars. Petite and feminine, the phantom warrior was not a boy but a young female with moon-silvered hair and demon dark eyes, they stared at each other for what felt like an eternity until a cry broke the bond and she looked up and over his head and with a visible hardening of her features she looked back at him, an unreadable look on her face. He looked over his shoulder with difficulty to see the swiftly approaching forms of his companions. Suddenly he felt a heavy familiar weight land in his lap. He picked up his newly-returned gun in a shaky hand, checking the chambers, before returning his eyes to where she still stood silent above him. She raised an eyebrow at him but his companions were closing in and he could see she did not want them to get a close look at her.

"Why…?" Sanzo murmured, almost to himself as she turned away. Oddly enough she stopped and looked back over her shoulder.

"Because you and I have business, Genjo Sanzo. You should try not to lose that again it makes keeping you alive harder for me," she replied wryly in a whiskey drenched voice before becoming absorbed into the indistinguishable shapes of the midnight wood.

Watching her disappear into the forest, he looked around the empty street and connecting lot where they had fought, and as the world began to darken, he wondered what kind of business he had with a woman like that. Goku caught him as he passed out second later.

Cursing, she swung up into the canopy, climbing from tree to tree, branch to branch, until she had a good vantage point of where Sanzo lay unconscious surrounded by his worried companions. The glow of Hakkai's chi as he knelt over Sanzo lit the entire barren lot. Goku held Sanzo and Gojyo stood protectively over the trio, eyes scanning for danger. She crouched on her branch, favoring a newly bruised right side as she continued to swear softly, berating herself for giving in and protecting him, talking to him. She had let her personal feelings get way too involved. But it almost seemed inevitable, as if she had been meant to be there all along. She watched them lift a still unconscious Sanzo between them and begin the trek back to the inn. She stood, hesitant, unwilling to leave but with a rueful shake of her tussled blonde head she willed herself away from her quarry, struggling to forget the intensity of his violet eyes in that one instant when their eyes had met.

Sanzo lay sprawled on his back in bed, his head pillowed on his arms. He shifted gingerly at the uncomfortable tightness of the bandages wrapped around his bare chest and belly. He had awakened in this bed not too long ago with the other three leaning uncomfortably close over his prostrate form. Now Gonjo and Hakkai were playing cards and Goku sat on his own bed talking animatedly to no one in particular about their most recent encounter and the appearance of the black draped "boy" who had saved Sanzo.

"Sanzo, you saw him up close, didn't you? When he gave you back your gun; what'd he look like?" Goku asked excitedly, nearly falling off his bed as he leaned forward to hear his own savior's answer. Sanzo frowned absently and replied in a low voice:

"It wasn't a boy, you stupid monkey, it was a woman and she was… beautiful." He fell silent, partially embarrassed by his own effluent words and the image those words invoked in his mind. Gojyo and Hakkai exchanged a wondering, amused look before Goku broke the stunned silence.

"So she was beautiful, God, Sanzo, I've never heard you say that about anything before," replied Goku in a shocked voice, his face blatantly agog.

Hakkai leaned over the back of his chair so he could see Sanzo's face as he asked curiously, "So…what made her so beautiful?" Sanzo sat up abruptly but regretted it as a stab of pain arced across his nerves, causing him to explode petulantly.

"How the hell should I know? It's not like I took an extensive study of her as we were being attacked by demons! Dammit, she was covered from head to toe there was almost nothing to see!"

Sanzo leaned back against the wall beside the bed, balanced precariously on an elbow to accommodate his injuries, looking more than little exasperated. Gojyo grinned smugly as he leaned back in his chair, taking his time in stretching out his legs and putting his cards carefully down on the table before he replied in a slyly knowing tone, "I think Hakkai meant was what you did see of her look like?"

"Yes," interjected Hakkai in an excited yet clinical voice, "that's exactly it. Were there any distinguishing features of her face, any unusual marks? Was there a chakra of any kind?"

Sanzo gradually leaned forward, his gaze turned inward as he rested his arms on his knees as he recalled her silvered visage.

"I remember her eyes. I only got to see them for a second before she turned away. They were black but they were strangely luminescent, like there were flecks of some crystal embedded in them that reflected light from deep within her." Sanzo sighed, mindlessly clenching and unclenching his fingers, crushing the forgotten cigarette in his right hand as he ran mental fingers through the pages of his memory.

"She looked oddly familiar but I don't remember how I know her. I remember the way she smelled, exotic but the scent was so familiar, comforting and alluring at the same time," said Sanzo, more talking to himself than to his stunned companions.

He closed his troubled eyes and ran a heedless hand through his shaggy hair, ruffling it further. When he opened them again his violet eyes were stormy. He was quiet for a stretch and the others sat in the silence waiting expectantly for him to continue. Gojyo, growing impatient, was ready to push him for more information, intrigued by Sanzo's description of this "beautiful woman" being something of a connoisseur of the fairer sex himself he wanted to hear more, to judge for himself if she really was as amazing as his friend said. Gojyo had opened his mouth to ask another pointed question when Sanzo continued.

"She had a chakra but it wasn't red; it was black. At first I thought she'd been shot and was walking dead because she had no aura. Whatever she is it isn't human or demon." He said in a perplexed voice, confusion evident on his face. That same confusion was echoed in the expressions of the other three but for different reasons. They were bewildered by the usually terse Sanzo saying so much in so short a time. They stared, caught, as he continued, seemingly oblivious.

"But she isn't a god either, dammit." His face closed suddenly and became angry and sullen. He rummaged roughly around in his robe, where it sat bunched around his lean hips, pulling out his nearly empty pack of cigarettes. He picked one and holding it between his lips, he lit it. Taking a deep drag, relaxing little by little as the nicotine pervaded his system, he looked up sardonically at the others. They waited a moment, thinking he might say or do something more but Goku, nearly giddy with this new puzzle, finally interrupted the strained hush that hung like Sanzo's cigarette smoke over the room. "Well, Hakkai what do you think she is? If she isn't human, a god or a demon that what is she?"

The darkness of the mist shrouded forest surrounded her, suffocated her. Fear clogged her throat and a fine trembling suffused her limbs. She couldn't see more than a foot or two in every direction and the damp air was thick. The mist was like a wall of ghostly swirling white. This wasn't friendly territory and that knowledge pounded in the back of her mind, fear gripping her heart in its icy tight grasp. Her quivering hands hovered close to her sides ready to unsheathe her weapons. No sound penetrated the viscous eerie fog. It was like she had been stripped of all her senses left with nothing to defend herself from those who sought her. But the attack, when it came, was not what she had expected, nor from who.

From out of the mist four wraiths appeared weapons at the ready. Floating, featureless and silent they nearly ran her down and in her heightened state she reacted on instinct alone. She struck out, uttering an eerie cry, swords swinging loose from their sheaths and into her defense before the others began to realize what had happened. She went for one of the phantoms her swords crossed in front of her, one held like a dagger the other like a sword with both pointing toward the sky. Gojyo reacted first, his crescent swirling out the mist like a mythical serpent only to be knocked aside by the fear driven flexes of the terrified girl. Hakkai struggled to find the others in the cloudy darkness holding a glowing ball of chi aloft but it seemed to not achieve anything. Goku, hearing a sudden noise, gave a fierce battle cry and charged, sending Gojyo to his knees with a misplaced sweep. But it was Sanzo who made the winning shot. Coming up upon the tumult he aimed carefully into the shifting gray light and fired. The bullet arrowed through the heavy air splitting the vaporous shroud apart. There was no sound other than the echo of its expulsion. The very ground was holding its breath when a sudden sigh filtered through the haze. A tiny gasp, vaguely feminine, followed by the thud of a body crumpling to the grass reached the four men's ears. When he heard it Sanzo's heart seized in his chest. In his mind's eye he saw not a demon but a boy-slender woman sprawled deathly still, crystal-flecked ebon eyes closed forever, and a mass of hair, once pale, now stained the garish red of spilt blood. He began to walk toward the source; a strange fear had begun to churn in the pit of his belly. Soon he was running, blindly trying to find her. He panted, wild violet eyes franticly searching through the concealing clouds for her familiar form. The startled cries of his companions and their pounding footsteps reverberated dissonantly behind him, but he did not care. If he hadn't tripped over her body he probably would've have kept running until something as final as a tall cliff stopped him with the sharp rocks at its base. He sprawled on the earth, senseless, the breath knocked out of him. Sanzo continued to lay there suddenly afraid of what he would find if he looked back. But a quickening within urged him and he swiftly rolled to his knees beside the silent, black garbed figure that was so peculiarly familiar. She lay on her back, body twisted at an odd angle so that her legs lay out to the side and her breasts were thrust upward because one of her arms were caught beneath her. Her thick plait was flung carelessly and her skin was paler than milk marred only by the pink of her lips and the black crescents of her lashes. But her beauty wasn't what made him close his eyes or cause his breath to hitch. It was the ever-widening pool of blood beneath her. The bullet had hit her from behind, entering right below her rib cage and exiting cleaning from the front, angled downward as if she had tried to dodge its path. It had affected her the way any other bullet from any other gun would. Sanzo gently probed the area around her wound, lifting the soft garment she wore that was similar to his own. But something slipped out from under the leather, something on a delicate chain around her neck. The thump of it hitting the ground beside her throat caught his attention but for only a moment, giving him only the vague impression of a heavy oval object suspended from a silver chain. He pushed it from his mind returning his focus to the damage he had caused this strange, unearthly creature. Sanzo tenderly maneuvered her until she lay against him, her head cradled in the curve between his neck and shoulder. Tearing a length of his robe he wrapped it around her wounds trying to staunch the bleeding. Her breathing was slow and shallow and he could barely feel the unsteady rhythm of her heart as she lay on him. She needed a doctor and she needed one fast. Already he could feel her body cooling, becoming more still as he worked. He couldn't place the emotions that tumbled wildly in his mind. He had never felt regret over killing, human or demon. He very rarely felt gratitude even toward the trio that traveled with him. But most rare of all was love or the expression of love. He had sworn the night his master had been killed that he would never again love anyone so deeply that their loss could destroy him. Now the thought that he might have caused this young woman's death filled him with regret and, strangely enough, a suffocating fear. He didn't understood either emotion and so blanked his mind, stubbornly refusing to analyze either emotion, as he wrapped an arm around her back and under her knees. Lifting her with effortless ease, he strode through the mist, no longer disoriented by the thick vaporous mass. It seemed to part before him, scuttling away with each step he took. At the time he dismissed it but later he remembered a glow that surrounded her as he carried her to safety a warm, deep golden glow that spread out from them to hold back the tides of obscurity. The walk to the forest's edge had to have been one of longest of his life, second to only one other. When he finally did step from beneath the canopy a skinny sliver of a moon shown weakly down and the stars twinkled and glittered like the rarest jewels, highlighting the anxious, sore trio that hunched together round a tiny blaze. They sat waiting for Sanzo the fourth, final and most important member of their traveling band.

Goku saw him first. He leapt to his feet and rushed excitedly over to his friend. But he stopped in his tracks as soon as he saw the burden that Sanzo bore staidly toward the little camp. The blood that drenched Sanzo's robe caused a sound of alarm from Hakkai. He came forward more sedately but his concern was evident in the steady frown that marred his brow. But though both surrounded him, Sanzo did not stop until he had come to the fire, where Gojyo waited nonchalantly yet with tense shoulders and wary eyes braced for trouble. Ever the guardian, Gojyo stood and waited until the others had returned within the circle of warmth before relaxing and joining them.

Hakkai rushed about gathering supplies: water, cloth, blankets. He made a pallet close to the flickering light. Sanzo knelt and settled the too-still woman in his arms against the roughly woven cloth.

"What happened, Sanzo?" asked Hakkai in a gently inquiring tone, his turquoise eyes trained on his friend's frozen face.

"I shot her." Sanzo's reply was sharp and brusque; painfully to the point. Hakkai swallowed hard at the brittle quality of Sanzo's voice and the glazed, lazy look in his deep violet eyes. He turned his wide eyed stare to the blood soaked, pale woman whose features were so still and silent, like a carved marble statue. A heavy lump of foreboding dropped to the pit of his stomach. Something told Hakkai that if this stranger died things would change. Sanzo would change, he would change; Goku and Gojyo would change. Their world would tilt, and maybe tumble, from its axis. He would save her, for all their sakes.

"I need to take off her tunic so that I can see the wound." Hakkai said, leaning over the woman.

"Why do you need to see the wound? You didn't need to see my wound when you healed me the night Goku lost his coronet," replied Sanzo in a darkly neutral tone, his eyes boring holes into Hakkai's back.

"I'm not sure if I can heal her at all, Sanzo, because I don't know how my chi will affect her, not knowing what she is. I might have to resort to more traditional methods which require me to have an unrestricted view of the injured area," replied the dark haired demon, his voice civil and painfully polite, hiding a growing irritation and uncertainty.

"Fine, do what you need to do," Sanzo sat back a few feet from where the mysterious woman lay with Hakkai attending her, so he could keep a close protective eye on her.

Hakkai took a dagger a slit the thick soft leather of her tunic down the front, careful of it's proximity to her slender throat. Putting aside the knife he peeled the fabric, sticky with drying blood, back from her body. But instead of seeing the wound, his eyes were immediately drawn to the pendant that lay between her bared breasts. It caught the firelight making the cloudy, churning stone, within the silver setting, glow. Its inner light got stronger as he gazed upon it and seemed to engulf her unconscious form as he watched.

"What is it?" Hakkai jumped as Goku appeared over his shoulder, staring at the pendant with its unusual stone.

"I don't know," replied Hakkai, his voice hushed and strained. "But we can't sit here wondering about it and let her bleed out on us. Get me the cloth and water, please." Hakkai briskly pushed the ruined tunic off her arms so that she lay naked from the waist up on the pallet. He reached for the bowl of hot water and the rag Goku sat within his reach. He poured water over his hands and rubbed them together, then rinsed. He then dipped the rag into the water, wrung it out and began to tenderly wash the blood from around the wound on her abdomen. The wound was clean and neat, the banishing bullet, thankfully, not lodged within her. The bleeding had nearly stopped and, though her breathing was shallow and slow, her heart beat was steady. Looking over his shoulder, he caught Sanzo's eye then nodded to his patient.

"Help me turn her over so I can see her back." Nodding, Sanzo came to kneel beside the woman's head. Hakkai slid an arm beneath her hips while Sanzo lifted her shoulders. They gently shifted her to her side, with Sanzo supporting her weight as Hakkai returned to cleaning and examining the rest of her.

Her back was in worse shape. The bullet had entered with more violence than it had exited, which was extremely unusual. He probed within the wound, searching for internal damage and finding only minimal bruising, nothing life threatening. It had miraculously not hit anything vital. But she had lost an unimaginable amount of blood; more than an average human could lose and survive. Her humanity had always been in question but was more so now that Hakkai had seen the pendant. It was vaguely familiar but he couldn't remember why. He reached out a hesitant hand toward to the softly glowing pendant but paused when he felt the steady warmth radiating from it. He lifted it from her skin gently and felt the heat increase the further from her body it got. He pulled the chain taut as he shifted the strange stone closer to the brilliance of the fire to get a better look.

"What the hell is that?" hissed Sanzo in his most distrustful tone. He wanted to rip it out of Hakkai's hands and fling it as far from them and, most especially her, as he could...

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**A/N: Hello and Good Morning ( 2:38am) Everyone! This is the second installment and there's a lapse of time between her banishment and her revelation to the Sanzo Party but I hope it wasn't too confusing. This is also older work so may be in need of editing. If you see any issues or have any suggestions let me know. Hope you enjoyed! Keep reading and please, please review so I know what I'm doing right and what I'm doing wrong! Abientot..**


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